


Taking You There

by Invictusimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Dom Dean, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pain Kink, Piercings, Possessive Dean, Sub Sam, Tattoo Artist Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean pulls Sam's head back by the roots of his hair gently, and he turns the chair around to face him so he can better color the line he’s made, to fill the collar around Sam’s neck.<br/>“That feel good knowing I’m markin’ you up? That they won’t fade in a few days?” <br/>Sam moans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking You There

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on my tumblr. Thank you so much for reading, enjoy :)

Sam winces as the needle presses into his skin over and over, black ink sweeping down his back, arms, and legs is being added to, Dean’s hands soothing the irritated skin.

Prior to meeting Dean, Sam had only a few tattoos and a few piercings, but nothing major, nothing like this.

There are lines and lines of script in Latin down his stomach that form sweet nothings when Dean laves over them with the flat of his tongue that traces new words against his skin, over his nipple piercings, and down his toned belly.

So far, the most significant piercing he has is the one that slips through his slit to sit just under the crown of his cock, a reminder he's only supposed to come when Dean says he can, only to be taken out by Dean himself.

But currently, his Dom's tattooing things in his skin he’ll never want removed like the dumb things he's covered since then.

A permanent, physical reminder he’s Dean’s and no one else's.

The thick line -- a collar of black -- around the base of his throat burns, and at the back of his neck Dean’s let patches of skin go unmarked, and the tan of it spells out ‘DEAN’S’ and Sam shivers at that thought. He’s naked, straddling the back of the chair he’s on so Dean can reach all the skin he needs to, everything he wants to mark.

He’ll lean in every one in a while and kiss jet black marks displaying Sam’s love for him, and he’ll whisper it back low in his ear, causing a shiver to make its way through his body.

There are winding vines over his wrists that flow into other marks meaning fertility, that him and Dean will always be fruitful, that their love will be eternal.

That it has been and always will be.

“You’re mine forever, Sammy,” Dean says, and kisses the back of his neck. The sting makes him groan, and he shudders. “Stay still, wouldn’t want me messing up now, would you? Do you need a little break, baby?” He asks quietly, but Sam shakes his head.

Dean pulls Sam's head back by the roots of his hair gently, and he turns the chair around to face him so he can better color the line he’s made, to fill the collar around Sam’s neck.

“That feel good knowing I’m markin’ you up? That they won’t fade in a few days?” Sam moans and the vibrations become a little too much. Dean stops and kisses above where he’s working, wipes down the skin again with more alcohol to disinfect it. “Are you hard from thinking about it?” Dean asks softly, and Sam nods minutely so he doesn’t mess Dean up in his tracing. His Dom hums happily.

The buzz of the tattoo needle makes his head spin, or he could be coming, either way it feels good, and he lets himself get lost in it. The pain melts away and leaves only good feelings, and the constant praise Dean’s spitting could also tie into that -- why he’s suddenly floating and not sitting in a chair.

“Hey, come back to me. I’m moving onto your chest, okay?” Dean says, and Sam distantly hears it. He lets his eyes flutter shut, and when Dean makes him turn so his chest is facing him he sinks further into the chair. “Doin’ so good for me, Sam. When these heal they’re going to look so good, everyone will know you’re mine. Can I add to this one?” Dean asks and turns Sam to point at the fading swirl of the tattoo just above his ass, the one on his lower back, and Sam nods. “Why don’t you lay down for this one, baby?” 

Dean helps him get onto the cushioned table so he can lay on his belly, and he puts wet washcloths over the freshly tattooed skin Sam lays on so he’s not in too much pain. He starts going over the lines he’s traced a million times, with his tongue, with his fingers, with his cock.

Sam wiggles his hips a little as Dean finishes, the entire process taking about an hour for just that one, and his cock is loving every second of it, and so is he.

“How about these?” Dean asks, and trails his fingertips lightly over the tree whose roots curve around his waist, whose branches flow down his arms, whose stump is his spine, a reminder of who he is. The symbols that make up the leaves all mean something -- one for his mom, one for his dad, things he’s done, etc., but he’s never added one for Dean.

He moans at the thought and his brow furrows.

“Please.” His voice cracks and it’s high pitched; he sounds absolutely _wrecked_ and his Dom must get a kick out of it because the needle presses down hard against his skin as Dean gets to work.

By the time Dean’s done Sam is shaking and too over-stimulated, every touch to his sweat covered skin painful and not in a good way. Dean helps him off the table, holds him when his knees buckle and when his legs fail to cooperate.

“Wanna go home now?” Sam nods his head. “You got it, Sammy. Let me just get this cleaned up, you cleaned up, and then we can head home and sleep. Do you want to sit? You’re probably sore.”

Sam shakes his head this time, and leans against the edge of the table, eyes still closed, sleep starting to drift in.

“Hey, hey, hey, stay standing, I’ll only get a few minutes.” Dean wipes most of Sam’s body down with alcohol, and he cleans the tattoos, new and old, with a cloth. He wipes Sam’s cock clean with a fresh cloth, the flushed skin covered in pre-come, and he grins up at Sam. “Got a little excited, did we?”

Sam flushes and leans into Dean’s heavy petting.

“How about this?” Dean asks, and it’s no more than a breath, a miracle Sam caught it in his relaxed state, and he looks down to see Dean trailing the skin around his cock. “Can I do this? Claim you as mine?”

His Dom says it almost shyly, and Sam whines. He nods his head.

“God, Sam, I love you so much, come here.” Dean holds him close as he wraps all his raw, red, blackened flesh with white gauze and plastic. “Maybe some other time I can do that, but right now I think you deserve a little treat. I’ll let you pick out a toy when we get home. That sound good?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice still husky.

“Why don’t you get dressed as much as you can, and then go wait in the car, I’ll only be another minute. I just need to clock out and close the shop up.”

He checks out the symbol Dean put on his back; an endless knot.

Eternal love, it means, and he traces it with his fingers reverently before slipping the wrappings back into place, before putting his shirt over it.

Sam leaves the shop in a daze. He gets in the car and almost immediately falls asleep he's so drained. As he starts to come down from the pain-high, the more painful his wounds become and he hisses as he shifts in his seat.

“You okay?” Dean asks when he comes into the car.

“Hurts.”

“I’m sorry, baby boy. I’ll take the edge off back at the house.” Dean smiles at him and pulls him in for a kiss, sucking on his tongue and pulling him in closer. “Maybe now,” he murmurs against Sam’s lips, and he sighs happily.

“M’gonna fall asleep if you do.”

“Can you wait ten minutes?” Dean asks, and Sam mulls it over. His cock aches -- he hasn’t come in a few weeks -- and his skin burns so badly it makes his stomach churn, but he can make it home easily. Anything for Dean.

“Yeah.”

“Good boy.”

The praise makes his cock twitch, visible even through the thick denim of the pants he's wearing.

When they get home it’s a race to get clothes back off and them both into the bedroom safely before the walls get stained again, or before things happen too fast. Last time that happened they needed a new couch after they were done.

“You can come, Sammy, I need to see you come for me, please,” Dean begs, pulling the piercing from the head of his cock slowly, and Sam whimpers. Dean strokes him until he’s fully hard again, thumbs over the head and pinches under the crown. Pre-come drips to slick Dean’s grip, and his cock spills over his Dom’s hand. “Again.”

It takes him a few minutes, but his dick fills and thickens in Dean’s unrelenting grip.

“Please, please,” he breathes, and Dean rocks against him. His fingers twist and pull at the sheets. He's strung out, sweaty, over-stimulated beyond belief, and he comes again all over his belly.

Dean wipes it off his wrappings, and Sam groans as pain bites at the edge of his afterglow.

“Again.”

Twisting his nipples between his fore-finger and thumb, Dean takes the rings into his mouth and blows on the wet skin so Sam’s nipples harden.

He gasps for breath and they roll around on the bedspread until their come makes it wet, too wet to use. Dean leaves to get a new one while Sam’s chest heaves, come dripping from his gaping slit.

His Dom comes back in the room after a few moments with his piercing, and a damp, cold cloth he places on Sam’s forehead along with the blanket he lays over Sam’s body after cleaning him up and putting his cock piercing back in place.

“So good for me, Sammy. How you doin’?” Sam makes an incoherent sound, a groaned sting of unintelligible words Dean kisses away. “Sleep now, more in the morning. I love you.”

“I love you, too, De.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from _Taking You There_ by Broods  
> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com/prompt-info))


End file.
